Green Eyed Slayer
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: Spike's Childe turns up in Sunnydale a few weeks after All The Way. Buffy's jealous, but is she jealous enough to do anything about it? OC warning
1. Gwen

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter One: Gwen**

Author's Note: This is set post _All The Way _so Buffy and Spike haven't kissed yet. I'd like to apologise if my history is a bit off, I've tried to get it accurate, but I may have made a few mistakes, so I'll say sorry now!

This story will be told from the POV's of three people - Gwen (Spike's Childe), Spike and Buffy - I'll name each chapter after the person narrating it so you know.

* * *

"And where've you been, lass?"

It was the question that always greeted me when I came home, whether I was early or dead on time. When I was younger, I would pretend that it was 'cause she cared about me, as I grew up, I grew to realise that it was 'cause she was a nosy old bag.

"The fells," I answered shortly and grabbed my younger sister Rose as she ran past.

"Don't manhandle her that way, Maggie!" me ma cried.

"I'm not," I answered. "But it would be me doin' the washin' once she's dirtied her clothes, so you sit yourself down, girl," I push her onto a chair and she pouted like the spoiled brat she was.

"Aye," me ma nodded. "But you wouldn't have to help round here if you got yourself a proper job. We need the money as you well know," to make her point, she looked around at the bare room that served as our kitchen and living room with only one tiny room leading off that we all had to share, despite its size.

"We wouldn't need to live like this if it weren't for our Robbie," I muttered.

She turned and waved a wooden spoon at me.

"Don't you talk about your brother that way," she hissed. "He did what he did for this family."

"Aye," I answered. "An' he swung for it, an' our lives have been murder ever since!"

It was true, three years ago, when I was fifteen, me elder brother Robbie - twenty at the time - took it into his daft head to steal money from the clerk at the coal mine he worked in. He wasn't smart enough to carry it out and he swung for it. Ever since, we were treated as outcasts, me ma, and me younger brother and sister. We were all treated like scum 'cause our Robbie got ideas above his station. It didn't matter that he'd paid for it, what mattered was that he did it.

"You're eighteen, my girl," my mother continued. "You went into service at ten, but I brought you back after your da's death - God rest his soul - 'cause I needed your help. We've survived 'til now on that money your da put away an' it's long since gone and we're relyin' on our Hal."

On cue, my younger brother walked in, his face pink beneath the grey hue left by the coal dust. He was the only one of 'em I could stand. At sixteen, Hal was a tall lad, taller than me, but most people are. He was good lookin' and decent enough. I reckoned he took after me da, 'cause he was nothing like ma, unlike me brother Robbie and sister Rose.

"I'll keep ya, ma," I told her. "I'm away to Newcastle the morrow an' I'll get a good payin' job an' send you the money."

"I want no money you've earned in Newcastle," me ma answered and turned back to the scant broth.

"Why not, ma?" Hal asked. "It's money after all."

"I'll not have filthy money in this house, Hal!"

Oh, aye, the old woman thought I'd take to bein' a working woman, walkin' the streets to earn me livin'. Hal seemed to find it as daft as I did.

"Oh, ma!" he laughed. "I can't see our Maggie as a workin' girl!"

"Keep yer mouth closed around yer sister," she returned and pointed to Rose.

"When you sendin' her into service?" I asked. "She'll be twelve in a few weeks."

"She'll go when I'm good an' ready to let her. 'Til then, you an' Hal need to work."

"As I'll do in Newcastle!" I shouted. "An' if you don't like it, I think I'll keep me money and live well, instead of givin' it to you, you ungrateful old mare!"

She belted me hard around the face, so hard I stumbled back. Hal caught me and helped me up.

"Calm down, ma," he said. "She didn't mean owt by it."

"Oh yes I did!" I shouted, all the anger I had felt towards her all these years poured out now, with the knowledge that the morrow I would leave this little Northumberland town of Langley where all the men were smelters or miners and would never have to see her again. "I meant every word an' I'm glad to be leaving the morrow, that I am!"

"The morrow?" me mother questioned. "No lass, you'll leave this minute. Get out of my house an' go to the town where all the other whores are! 'Cause that's all you are, a whore, still running wild with the lads at your age when you should be lookin' for decent employment. If your da could only see you now…"

"But he can't!" I shouted. "An' I'm glad he can't. I bet he welcomed that cave-in as a way out of your house!"

"Get out!" she screeched. "Get out! An' never come back!"

I turned, my long skirt swirling as I did so and marched to my room where I packed my few things. I could hear Hal protesting loudly and Rose crying. I didn't bother to say goodbye to her, I thought it wrong to say goodbye, 'cause that would mean I cared, and I didn't. I marched out of the crumbling two roomed shanty and made to leave through the meagre vegetable patch when I felt a hand on me arm. I turned an' looked at me brother.

"You really goin', Maggie?" he asked.

"Aye," I answered. "Aye, it looks that way and I would've gone long afore now if it hadn't been for you."

"And Rose?"

"No, never her, 'cause she's a spoilt brat if ever there was one. Let me tell you, Hal, you're the only one I'll miss. That's the truth. You get yourself out of there an' get yourself out of the mine."

"And do what?"

"Farm, you're good like that. Let her precious Rose take care of her."

"Aw, Maggie, won't you come back?"

"No," I shook my head. "I always said I would go an' now I am."

"I know," he nodded, "goodbye, Maggie."

"'Bye, Hal," I hugged him tightly, for I would miss my funny and sensible little brother, he was the only one who understood my itching feet that begged to be set upon ground outside of this mining and smelting town.

He watched me walk up the lane to the road where I could get a cart to the coach station. After we broke apart, he had once again repeated "Goodbye, Maggie," and he had added, "An' good luck."

He was the last person to call me Maggie, for after that I was known as Gwen. It were me middle name. Me da's mother's name, for she had been a Welsh lass.

It was the year 1888 when I left me childhood home, hoping for bigger and better things in the great city of Newcastle. I didn't do so well; I worked in a pub. It weren't the best job, but it paid the rent on me room an' I could put up with wanderin' hands an' suggestive comments.

An' put up with it I did, 'til two years later, I met a man by the name of William, who changed me life forever.

* * *

There he is. Well, well, it's been a long time, ain't it, Sire? Aaah, he's sleeping. Yeah, he was always cute when he's asleep. Scrap that, the guy's _always_ cute. Y'know, you'd think he'd wake up when I walked in, wouldn't you? But oh no, Spikey boy just keeps on sleeping. I give him a little poke and he rolls over.

"Buffy," he murmurs softly.

Huh, so he's dumped Drusilla. If only I had a nice marching band and the music for _"Ding-dong the bitch is dumped!" _I sit on the end of the bed and pick at my boots while I wait for him to wake up.

I know I could wake him up, but, despite all these years, I've still got a ton of respect for him. He is my Sire, after all's said and done. Wonder who Buffy is? I've heard he's got a thing for the Slayer. I've also heard he's got a chip that stops him from killing. Then again, I've heard a ton of stuff. Always kept my ear to the ground, you see, for my family and what not. Didn't stick around with them for long. Spike told me to get gone 'bout a month after I rose. Glad he did, I hated Darla and Angelus and it was all I could not to slap Drusilla one. He got that and told my if I wanted to last, I'd have to make it on me own.

He kept an eye out for me. I was in Prague at the same time he and Dru were, he called in on me, asked how I was doing. I got a good Sire, but I wish I could've stuck with him a bit longer. When I saw him in Mexico, he told me that ol' Angelus went and got himself souled and was living the good life in LA. I heard he lost his soul a few years back when he screwed the Slayer, the same Slayer Spike here's s'posed to be arse over tit in love with. Must be some girl.

At last! He's awake. He rolls over all leisurely like and yawns. Then he goes rigid when he senses me. He opens his eyes and stares at me.

"Gwen?" he cries.

"Hey there, Will," I say with a smile.

He leaps up and out of bed. Mmm, nice view, now if you could just do a little twirl... He notices the direction of my eyes and grabs the sheets to wrap around his waist. Damn.

"Still sleep in the nude?" I ask. "So which lucky girl's it in aid of now, eh?"

"Bloody 'ell, Gwen," he mutters and searches for his jeans. I find them on the floor beside me. I pick them up and throw them at him.

"Put them on, Sire," I tell him. "Then we got some catching up to do."

He looks at me strangely then and disappears down the tunnel. While he's gone, I have a look around. Nice place he's got here, then again, he always did have good taste. Downstairs is quite homey, silk sheets, clothes everywhere (typical man), a few stakes and a sword. Hello, what's this? I pull a photo out from under the bed, from the looks of it; he's been sleeping with it under his pillow. Huh, pretty girl. Blonde hair, green eyes, from the tan, I'd say she's human. I'll take a wild guess in thinking this is the latest woman in the middle of breaking his heart, somehow I don't think the teenager with long dark hair and ancient looking blue eyes is his type. He snatches it outta my hands and glares at me.

"Been lookin' for that," he grumbles and smoothes it out.

"Who are they?" I ask.

"No one you know," he answers.

"Which is why I asked. C'mon, Spike, I'm taking an interest. That the Slayer?"

"Slayer?" he asks. "What're you talkin' 'bout?"

"I've heard stuff, as you'll recall, I'm a bit of a gossip. Heard you're in love with her and working with her since you got some programme -"

"Chip," he corrects.

"Yeah, stops you from killing, eh?"

"Yeah," he admits.

"Aw, don't worry, you're not missing you much. Not that that means much coming from the disappointment."

Oh, yeah, I was a disappointment to Angelus. Spike turned me over a century ago and brought me back to a townhouse they were in. Dru thought I was a _"_sweet little granddaughter." Angelus gave Spike a clip round the ear for turning people without his permission. Huh, Spike was right, Angelus was always a prancing great poof. Anyway, I was apparently this huge disappointment and embarrassment to them 'cause I never killed to feed. I fed, then let them go. That's not to say I didn't _enjoy _it, but I didn't torture and mess around like Angelus, Darla and Dru liked to. Never really saw the point, Spike neither. He said it was the human in me. Being the eldest girl of six, and quite poor since my da died, I was always taught not to play with my food, guess that's where I get it from.

"So, you're still a disappointment then?" he asks.

"By Angelus's standards at least," I shrug, I got over it a long time ago, live by my own rules now, learnt to do that from Spike. "How is Angelus? Heard he lost that soul you told me 'bout when he fell for the Slayer, true?"

"Yeah, they had the big Romeo an' Juliet thing goin' on," he says and fingers the photo before shoving it under his pillow.

"Woah, big with the bitterness, Spike," I say. "So, this the same Slayer I've been hearing stole my da's heart?"

"Don't pull that Dru crap with me," he snaps.

That hurt. Comparing me with Dru. Like I ever called him _daddy._

"Shut up, Spike," I answer. "Just 'cause I don't kill humans, don't mean I'm not into roughing up vampires, Sire or not."

"Ever the firecracker," he says and gets off the bed. He grabs my elbow and pulls me up. "C'mon, off you go."

"You what?"

"Go. Outta town. _Leave._"

"Why?"

"'Cause if the Slayer catches you, she'll do you in. Happens that you're the only one I made that I can stand."

"That'll be 'cause I hate Angelus as much as you do. But I ain't going nowhere."

"Gwen," oh, shit, he's using his Sire voice. "Get the hell out of here, _now._"

"But it's almost dawn," I whine. "You can't throw me out now. Asylum, I want asylum. Even if you send me out now and I find somewhere to hang, who's gonna protect me from the Slayer, huh?"

"You. Last time I saw ya - "

"Which was nigh on five years ago," I tell him.

"So? Last time I saw ya, you were doin' fine."

"Spike," I'm 'bout to play the card that always works on him. Big softie, always has been. "When you told me to get going before Angelus, the Bitch Queen and L'il Miss Loony Bin got home, you said if I ever needed any help, I could come to you. Well, here I am."

He studies me for a minute, then sighs.

"Sit down," he waves towards the bed but I turn and monkey up the ladder. "Oi! Gwen! Where're you goin'?"

"Upstairs, TV and stereo," I call back.

I hear him chuckle and I sit down in the only chair in the upper level.

"Cheeky bitch," he mutters and sits in front of the chair.

"Soft bastard," I return. "Got any beer?" I ask.

"Here," he goes to the fridge and tosses me a can of beer and a bag of blood while I turn on the stereo. Gotta love the Ramones.

"This what you been living on?" I ask, studying the bag.

"Yeah, you get used to it."

"'Bout the same as what I have, except mine comes from the living, doubt it makes a lot of difference, you feed just the same."

"You haven't changed."

"You neither. So, you gonna tell me what happened to you and the moon whisperer, and what's so great 'bout this Slayer and the kid in the picture?"

"You ain't gonna give up if I don't, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine. Me an' Dru came here 'bout four years ago -"

"After Prague?"

"Yeah. Dru was attacked and weak - stop smiling," I suppress the smirk I learnt from him and wait for him to continue. "Anyway, I brought her 'ere to cure her. Angelus - Angel, as he's known now -"

"God, what a complete prat."

"Yeah," he agrees with a laugh. "I managed to do the ritual on her, but the Slayer dropped an organ on me."

"Sassy chick."

"Sassy, yeah," he looks dreamy for a second. "So, I'm in a soddin' wheelchair when Dru decides she wants to reassemble the Judge, know him?"

"I've heard the stuff, yeah."

"Then Angel and the Slayer shagged and he lost his soul. Toddles into the factory where me and Dru were an' the Judge can't burn him. Then him and Dru carted big blue off to drain people an' the Slayer stops him an' then Angelus gets hold of some other demon. Didn't particularly want this bloody world sucked into hell, so I sided with the Slayer to get Dru back. Dru decided she didn't want me after that, so I came back here, left to try an' get her back then came back 'ere again. Got the chip, started workin' with the Slayer an' her friends -"

"She's got friends?" I cry, never heard of a Slayer with _friends_ before.

"She's not like any Slayer you or I've ever met, Gwen," he sounds almost proud. That's not good, means he's in love with her, she'll probably screw him over too. "Fell in love with her, she don't feel the same, she died, end of."

"She's dead?"

"No."

"But you just said -"

"She's got a witch friend, brought her back, she thought she was in a soddin' Hell dimension. Only she wasn't. I was the only one she told."

"Must count for something," I offer.

He shrugs and sips the beer he got for himself. I bite into my blood bag and guzzle it back, haven't fed in a while, so sue me. He's smiling at me when I next look at him.

"What?" I ask.

"No game face, good to see you in control."

"I'm over a hundred, not exactly a fledge, Spike. Gonna tell me who the kid is then? The brunette with the weird eyes."

"Dawn?" he frowns. "Weird eyes?"

"They look too old for her," I shrug. "What's the deal?"

"She's the Slayer's sis, the Key made human. Long story, can't be arsed. Nice kid though."

"You hang out with her?"

"When the fancy takes her to pop in. Like I said, she's all right. You? What you doin' 'ere then, eh?"

"Came to see you - problem?"

"No. Five years ago you said we last saw each other?"

"Almost."

"Any great loves in your life since then?"

"Y'know you're the only bloke I've ever loved."

He smiles at me, almost like no one cares 'bout him and that was something unexpected.

"Gwen?"

"Yep?"

"You in control of your bloodlust? You're not gonna go ravaging the first human you meet?"

"Please," I snort. "When have I ever? You know me, feed and run, I don't even kill, never had a mind to. You can't have forgotten that."

"I know, but people change."

"Minute ago you said I hadn't. Why'd you ask anyway?"

"Wondered if you might like to stick around for a bit."

"What 'bout the Slayer and her friends? Won't they stake me on sight? Come to think of it, why ain't they rammed you one?"

"'Cause she thought it unfair to do me in when I'm, well, done in already. Plus the fact I come in handy, that's not to say she don't threaten."

"Must be nice though, to have friends, to know you're doing something worthwhile."

"'S'all right," he shrugs. "Grows on you, like a fungus. If you want to hang around, you gotta stick to the blood bags an' I'll have a word with the Slayer."

"Have a word with me about what?"

The door crashes open and this tiny slip of a girl walks in. Now, I've come across a couple of Slayers in my time and some of them weren't exactly butch, but this is ridiculous.

"Bloody hell," I say and yes, I did learn that from Spike. "_That's_ a Slayer?"

"Yes, who are you?" she asks and narrows her eyes at me before glancing at Spike. "Who is she?"

"Not something the cat dragged in, lass," tell her as I stand up and offer my hand. "I'm Gwen, Spikey boy's Childe."

"You have thirty seconds before I stake her," the Slayer says, peering over my shoulder at Spike.

"Sit down, Gwen," he tells me so I roll my eyes an'dflop into the chair, turning down the music to give him some quiet. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm quite the obedient little vampire.

"What's going on, Spike?" she asks.

He lowers his voice, but he knows full well that I can hear him.

"I turned 'er 'bout hundred years ago. I had to tell 'er to go, Angelus an' Darla didn't like 'er, even Dru went off 'er -"

"Feeling was downright bloody mutual, I can tell you," I called over. "Hated them all, especially Dru, daft cow, amount of times I've -"

"Gwen," he warns. "Shut up."

So I shut my mouth and settle back in the chair, pouting a little.

"I owe 'er, Buffy," he continues in a low voice. "She's not gonna kill anyone, she's not your usual vampire. She never killed anyone, she drank 'em into unconsciousness and left 'em, that's why Angelus didn't like her, not bloodthirsty enough for 'im."

"She's a _vampire_," the Slayer answers.

"So's he," I point to Spike. "Would it help if I got a chip and all?"

She blinks at me - ooo, attitude! I _like_ you!

"Slayer, I'll keep an eye on 'er. If she steps outta line, stake her and if it makes you feel better, stake me an' all."

"Oh, don't do that," I say. "Slayer - Buffy, is it? If you stake him, you'll be depriving the world of the cutest arse _ever_. Not that _I_ ever got a squeeze, it was packaged for Miss Moonshine only."

"Dru," he explains at the Slayer's baffled face. "Her an' Gwen didn't see eye to eye."

"Don't fancy it up, Spike, we hated each other," I state, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah," Spike nods.

"I'm sorry, Spike," she says and steps towards me. "But it's my duty."

Instinctively, I jump up and back away. Next thing I know, Spike's slipped an arm around my waist and is squeezing reassuringly. I remember this gesture from years ago when he would defend me to Angelus. I could've done it myself, could've given Angelus a right mouthful and enjoyed it, but Spike said I couldn't because I was the youngest and should respect my elders. I remember telling him that Angelus and Darla didn't deserve respect and there was a proud twinkle in his eye when I said that, but he said if I didn't obey him, Angelus'd knock seven bells outta me, then stake me and I didn't want that, did I?

"Give 'er a chance, eh, Slayer?"

She studies me for a second, then lowers her stake.

"Fine," she says, a hard, Slayer-type edge to her voice as she addresses me. "But you hurt anyone, my friends, my sister or anyone else and I_ will_ kill you."

"Wouldn't expect anything else," I answer.

She nods, turns on her heel and walks out. Spike pulls his entirely welcome arm from around my waist, sighs, turns the music up and flops dejectedly into the chair.

"Can see why you love her," I tell him.

"Yeah?"

"She's beautiful," I shrug. "But it's more than that, isn't it, Spike?"

"Yeah."

* * *

It's nice catching up with my Sire, and he has changed. I knew him when he was ten years into being a vampire and he was still a nice person. He was bloodthirsty and violent, but to me - and especially to Dru - he were kind and funny and could even be shy. When I left, every time I met him, he were harder, 'til when I saw him Prague, he was barely recognisable as the man I knew years ago.

I blamed Angelus to some extent, he would go at Spike, hated his stubbornness and was forever trying to break him. I'm proud to say my Sire never snapped. But I blamed Drusilla most for Spike's change. He had become so vicious and spiteful I could barely talk to him and when I cheeked him, he had me round the throat saying I had to show respect. I'd heard he'd come to Sunnydale, and another time I'd've come here to say hi. But after our last encounter in Prague, I didn't bother. He hadn't threatened me as he did in our previous encounter in France, but he was cold and for the first time I saw him as dead.

I hated Drusilla for making him become a monster just so he'd feel good enough for her. Way I saw it, she weren't good enough for him, he had the perfect combination of monster and man, but she were all monster and crazy. Now though, he's as I remember him, cheeky and kind, though the demon's there, just waiting to break out and if anyone came at someone he loved, he'd have a hard time holding it back.

He told me to leave for me own good. He came into me room in the middle of the morning and asked if I wanted to live, I answered that aye, course I wanted to live. So he smuggled me out through the cellar and told me - when we met briefly a year later just before he was due to leave England with the family - that he had said I'd run away on me own.

The only thing I don't like 'bout this Spike is the defeat in him. Even when he was like this before, before he succumbed totally to his demon, there was an edge, a confidence that told you to be wary of him. That same edge not only erupted fear in men, women and children, but could arouse the women who were not only drawn by his good looks but the depth to him. Exactly as I was, drawn to his looks and the dark attraction and mystery he offered. To a country lass like me, it was wonderful, intoxicating and deadly. Now he seems broken and I can't help thinking it's down to that Slayer. My guess is that she's told him where to go and when she died he fell apart and now she's back, he doesn't know where he stands.

And my guesses are never far wrong.

* * *

I was thinking - as I tend to do in the daylight hours when I can't sleep - and my mind turned to my early years as they often do when I meet Spike or after I've seen him. I remember the first voice I heard when I woke up on a table in one of the townhouses not far from where I worked.

"What have I told you about turning just anybody, boy?" the voice was rough, Irish, I immediately disliked the owner.

I felt strange, I wanted to open my eyes, but something told me to be still for a little while, until the quarrelling had died down a bit.

"Hands off me, yer great poof!" I instantly recognised that thick London voice an' knew instinctively that I would always be safe as long as the owner of that voice was nearby.

"You were drunk again, weren't you?" the Irish voice had demanded.

"Oh, Angelus, put him down," the third voice was pretty, feminine but I wasn't daft, that elegant voice was just the façade for a cold hearted whore playing at being a lady. I'd heard enough of them to know that much. "It doesn't matter, we could always use someone to fetch and carry now that young William has decided not to take orders."

"Aye," the Irish voice agreed. "We'll have to do something about that, won't we, Will? Can't have you being disobedient, can we?" I felt his rough hand smooth over my hair and I barely contained my revulsion. "She's awake, conserving her strength. Maybe you did right, my boy. And my, if she isn't a pretty thing. You've fine taste, William; she's got hair like blood. Pretty little friend for you, eh, Dru?"

"Oh, yes," the fourth voice was feminine also, but this one hid no whore, it was the dreamy innocence of a young child, though the cold note in it told me she was no better than the others. "Can I play with William's toy?" the way she said it left me in no doubt that she was mad.

I struggled up then, gazing around, wondering at why everything seemed too sharply defined an' the smallest noise was magnified. The first person I saw was the man from the pub, the one who had pulled me into the alley on my way home.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I nodded, too numbed by a drilling hunger to speak. A broader man that reeked of Irish whisky thrust a blonde servant girl at me. He stepped back an' stood between two women, one dark an' one blonde.

"Drink up, girl," he said. "We'll be going soon."

The man they called William glared at him an' took the girl. He held her steady an' smoothed the hair away from her neck, running a finger along her jugular.

"Here," he said. "Bite here, Gwen."

So I bit. I found it came natural to me. I thought the old witch that lived down the lane must have been right about beings that wandered the night an' drained the blood of their victims. I could smell the girl's fear; she was younger than me. The fear really did nothing for me, I decided that I didn't enjoy it.

That was the first person I've ever killed an' I can count the others on one hand.

We moved on the next night. Angelus and Darla did nothing but moan that I had held them up and Dru flitted about telling William what a "naughty little puppy" he was.

I soon learnt I was the lowest in station, that the only ones lower were the numerous minions and I wasn't very much higher than them. I soon learnt to hate Angelus for reasons other than instinct. Him and his leering and questing hands. He never slept with me, liked to build up to things did Angelus and if I hadn't gone when I did, I've no doubt he would've stopped his teasing and would've done what he had been building up to. I'm thankful that Spike got me out of there before Angelus was able to break me, not that I wasn't already broken, but I would've staked myself than let _him_ touch me. I think Spike knew that.

Drusilla liked me at first, but she soon went off me, she was too used to being the only focus of Spike's attentions - she didn't seem so bothered 'bout Angelus's attentions, though she didn't like it much, but she had long ago gotton used to sharing her daddy. Not that Spike's attentions ever diminished, but she detested that when she went to play with "daddy," Spike and I would sit together and talk or read. We only slept together once, Angelus practically ordered Spike to take that final step in possessing me. It happened just that one time, despite Angelus's urging's and my desperate prayers, I should've known God would've shunned a demon like me.

I did ask Spike once why he had turned me if not to use me for his satisfaction. He shrugged and said, "Dru was off with Angelus an' I was drunk."

He was a good Sire. He only ever hit me once - he threatened me in years to come, but never followed through 'cause I was careful never to give him reason to - we were sitting together while Dru and Angelus were upstairs and I happened to say I thought Drusilla was "a stupid, mad bitch." He leapt up, dragged me from my chair, gripped my upper arm and belted me across my face.

"Never," he had said, breathing hard even though he didn't need to. "_Never_ call her anything like that _ever_ again, understand?"

I nodded and mumbled a feeble yes.

So, you'd think I'd hate him for any number of reasons, that he turned me 'cause he was drunk and jealous, that he didn't want me in a sexual way, that he hit me 'cause I called Drusilla what she was and that he threatened me years later when he became a shadow of the man I knew.

I never hated him. He was my Sire, I loved him

But I soon learnt Drusilla was his world.


	2. Spike

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter Two: Spike**

"What can I get ya?"

I wasn't surprised at the broad Northumberland accent I heard once I'd slumped at the bar, but what did surprise me was the tone. Girls weren't uncommon behind bars, 'specially not in these pubs, but they usually sounded weary an' run down. This girl sounded fresh an' cheerful but when I glanced up at her, it was clear that it wasn't 'cause she was new to the job, must've just been her nature. From the way she held herself - one hand on her right hip and her head tilted to the left - the way she confidently filled a glass for another customer an' the teacloth slung over her shoulder, told me she'd been at this for a while.

"Don't tell me," she said when I didn't answer immediately. "Whiskey? But not the rubbish kind, you want the good stuff, that right?"

I nodded and slumped forward over the bar, hands supporting my head, trying hard not to think of Dru and Angelus, but the more I tried not to, the more I did.

"Aye, I'll be as quick as I can, sir."

She poured me a whiskey and rested it on the bar in front of me. She studied me as she wiped her hands on the cloth from her shoulder.

"What's wrong, eh?" she asked.

I shook my head and she leaned over the bar at me.

"Woman?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"So you've got a tongue in yer pretty head, have you?" she laughed.

I couldn't help but laugh with her.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She smiled a crooked smile.

"Gwen," she answered. "You?"

"William."

And after that, I laughed with her most of the night, 'til later on when a bit of trouble blew up.

"C'mon, girlie," one of the toothless old gits leered as she went to wipe the tables. "Yer 'ere to serve, ain't ya? So serve us."

He grabbed her hips and she flicked him over the head with her cloth.

"You keep your hands to yerself, Mr Barry," she said. "An' I'll be servin' no one owt but beer. What would your wife say if I told 'er what you've been up to, eh? 'Cause I see her oft enough in the market place."

The old bloke leaned back in his chair an' I couldn't help smiling at her fiery nature. Her hair had come loose over the hours I'd sat there and she had given up trying to tame it so it now hung loose. Long curls dangled down her back and curtained her face as she bent over one of the tables and wiped it. The toothless git elbowed his pal who leant forward and rubbed callused hands over the coarse fabric of her long skirt. She whirled round and glared at him.

"I'll have the landlord on you," she threatened. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, keep yer dirty hands to yerself, else one day you might find you have none."

"You threatenin' me, witch?" he asked, standing up and towering over her petite frame.

"Witch?" she scoffed, lifting her chin in defiance.

"Aye, lass," he nodded. "I've been hearin' tales of you. Runnin' wild up in Langley an' gettin' yerself decent lodgin's in this town. Ain't natural, I tell you. So, I'm thinkin' if you don't want me goin' to yer boss, yer gonna have to do somethin' for me," he caught her hips and backed her into the bar. The filthy hands running over her body.

The landlord ran out of his back room.

"Now, now, lads," he said, flappin' round them.

I'd had enough, so I got up and knocked the landlord to one side. Despite my drunken state, I grabbed the drunk by his collar, lifted him off his feet and rammed him into the far wall. There were muffled gasps at what I assumed was because the skinny lad who'd been knockin' 'em back all evenin' was so strong.

"I think you heard the girl, didn't you?" I asked. "Told you to keep your hands to yourself, she did, and here you are, harassin' her. Not exactly polite, are you?"

"Get your hands off me," he made to push me away so I thumped him against the wall to remind him who was in control. "You Londoners think you're so great."

"'Cause we are," I answered. "Compared to poofs like you, we are. Now, why don't you apologise to Gwen?"

"A whore like 'er?" he asked. "Never."

I rotated my wrists so his oxygen intake became an issue.

"An' I'll ask you again," I said. "Why don't you apologise to young Gwen here?"

He looked at her, then his eyes flickered to down to me and he sighed.

"Sorry, lass."

"That's quite all right, Mr Bradford, just so long as yer hands only wander as far as the beer."

I dropped him and flashed her a grin. When I returned to the bar, she laid a hand on my arm and whispered, "Thanks for that, sir, I always 'ave trouble with 'im, but none so bad as that."

"I've told you," I answered, reachin' for my whiskey. "Call me William."

* * *

Never thought I'd see Gwen in this neck of the woods, I actually hadn't thought about her in a while. Red reminds me of her, when I first saw her I had to do a double take, thinking it was Gwen. But Red's far too quiet to be Gwen, plus she's American.

I look over at Gwen; she's reading one of the Watcher's books. She always liked reading, I taught her how. Her being of the working class, she didn't have much of an education, though she could write her name. She asked me to teach her, so I did. It was something to do while Dru was off with Angelus and it meant I didn't have to listen to Darla's griping. And that's what I turned her for, if I'm honest, I wanted someone who I knew only wanted to be around me and who I could pass time with when Dru was having her fun. And it worked quite well for a time, till I heard Angelus talking to Darla 'bout staking her if she didn't start killing. I liked Gwen and I knew I couldn't stop Angelus, but I could arse up his plans a bit. You should've seen his face when I told him she'd gone. Wish I'd had a camera, that was one to savour.

She's settled in all right, brought her to the shop 'bout an hour ago. The Slayer explained the situation and apart from ol' Giles wanting a word with the Slayer, the others shrinking back a little and Harris's usual useless comment, they dealt with it.

Her legs are stretched out in front of her. She's wearing baggy camouflage trousers, heavy army boots and a black sleeveless top. I'll bet she was happy as anything when woman started wearing pants, never was too girlie was Gwen. Her hair, though, is the only girlish thing 'bout her. Angelus took a shine to her at first because of the way she looked, apparently she bore a resemblance to some of the Irish girls in Galway with her curly red hair, green eyes, milky skin and fiery temperament. She hasn't touched her hair. It's still thick and hangs below her shoulders in large ringlets near the end of her hair. It's the most amazing shade of red, not ginger, but real blood red. Right now, it's tugged up in an untidy ponytail, but you should see it down, really. Her eyes are pretty, I s'pose. They look too big for her face, large, green - no hint of brown - and framed with thick lashes. All in all, the girl's quite the beauty. And she's in love with me.

Yeah, she is, always has been. She's s'posed to be, obviously, me being her Sire an' all, but sometimes I think it's more than that. She's lived for over a hundred years and she hasn't had anyone. Not like me and Dru, and - despite their numerous betrayals - Darla and Angelus. She's just always been alone. She never made any secret of being in love with me, not once has she denied it. At first, she didn't like that I was in love with Dru, but over time, she got used to it. I love her too, but it's only the way I love Niblet, it's not liked I loved Dru or like I love Buffy.

I think she didn't like me so much over the years when I became quite the monster. After our encounter in France, when I shoved her against the wall and threatened to knock seven bells outta her if she didn't treat me like a Childe should treat their Sire, she stopped seeking me out. Not that she ever trailed me though, just if she heard I was somewhere, she'd look me up, say hi, catch up and go off again. I didn't mind so much. But I don't think she meant to see me in Prague. I have to say I felt bad for threatening her, but she pretended to have forgotten it, but I could tell by the sting in all her comments that she was pissed at me.

She seems to have forgiven me now though, she can hold a grudge for the longest time against anyone, but I like to think she's got a weak spot for me.

Dawn sidles over to me now and sit down. She hides her head behind her book and pokes me in the arm.

"Spike," she hisses.

"Yeah, Bit?" I ask.

"Sssh! I want to ask you about Gwen."

"Oh?"

"Is she English?"

I could've laughed out loud at that, but I held it in, seeing she was serious. Don't they teach 'em anything in these schools? But it's true, after all these years of gallivanting round the world on that Harley of hers - best lookin' machine I've seen in a good long while, by the way - her broad Northumberland accent has faded. It's a twang now, in some words and she still says "aye" like she used to. But the thing with her is, if you get her talking 'bout that month she spent with me, Dru, Angelus and Darla or you ask her 'bout where she grew up, the lilt creeps into her voice 'til it's an echo of the one I heard it in that pub over a century ago.

"She is English," I tell Bit.

"Where in England if she from, then?"

"Northumberland," Gwen says, not looking up from her book. "I'm from a town just outside Newcastle, far north of London, s'pose you could call me a Geordie. Don't sound it, I know."

Dawn blushes bright red and mumbles something.

"Don't worry about it, lass," Gwen says. "You weren't to know."

Dawn nods and scuttles off to some distant corner to bury her nose in her homework.

"Huh," I snort.

She gets up and wanders over to the counter where she hands Giles his book. He smiles nervously, like she'll rip his throat out if he's anything other than gracious. She probably might have done it she hadn't got a big thing 'bout killin' humans.

"Er, yes," he nods. "Thank you, uh, Gwen."

"It's all right," she shrugs. "They're interesting. Never had the opportunity to read any of the Slayer books before."

He looks surprised at her interest and turns around to sort through a big pile of books. He pulls one out and pushes his glasses up his nose as he puts it on the counter an' opens it up.

"You might find this uh, interesting," he says.

She bends over it and frowns, flicking through the pages before smiling.

"Ok," she replies and wanders towards me with her nose stuck in it.

Next thing I know, she's dropped into my lap and shifted so I can see the book over her shoulder.

"See this?" she asks and points to a paragraph before clearing her throat and reading, "'The red headed female vampire has been sighted at various points over the years, most recently in 1984 when she fought a Wielder demon who was attacking a young couple. Before then, she was sighted in the battlefields of France in the First World War. She has never been known to kill although this does not prevent her feeding. There are many theories surrounding her behaviour but the most likely is that she acquired a soul like that of her Great Grandsire, Angelus. It has also been suggested that she has no soul but does not enjoy killing, but for a Childe of William the Bloody, Slayer of two Slayers, this is doubtful,'" she laughs and looks up at Giles, who's smiling at her from the counter. "You knew this was me?"

"Well, yes," he admits. "But I haven't looked at that book in a long while, so I didn't know you were related to Spike. You really have been the subject of much debate."

"Really?" she asks. "Cool," she twists around in my lap and grins at me. "I'm the subject of much debate," she sticks her tongue out slightly. "Top that Mr I-Killed-Two-Slayers and Mr Great-Grandsire-Got-A-Soul."

"Isn't this cosy."

I groan inwardly when I recognise Harris's voice. Gwen rolls her eyes and puts her arm round me as she leans round to see Xander and the Slayer. Oh, bloody 'ell.

"Hello, lad," she acknowledges. "Slayer."

"Still entertaining your friend, Spike? Or is she entertaining you?" Xander asks, Buffy hasn't said a word, just keeps on glaring.

"Friend?" Gwen raises an eyebrow. "Me and Spike are more than _friends_, Xander."

Buffy seems to pale and turns sharply and walks over to Dawn, no doubt questioning her 'bout her homework.

"Gwen," I say and look at Harris. "She's right. I made her, a lot closer than friendship."

"As you might find out one day," Gwen adds. "Living on a Hellmouth and all."

He looks threatened and backs away towards the counter.

"Where's Anya, Giles?" he asks.

"Out back doing an inventory," he answers.

Xander nods and disappear to play with the demon chit.

Buffy looks at the two of us - me and Gwen - huddled on one chair and purses her lips.

"If you can prise yourselves apart, I thought you wanted to patrol, Spike."

Well, well. Was there jealousy in that voice? Nothing like a bit of the green eyed monster to boost a man's ego. Not that I could ever imagine the Slayer getting' jealous over me and Gwen. But then I never imagined she'd come back, not after… Anyway, if Gwen carries on like this, I reckon I might find a new side to the Slayer.

Yeah, I don't think I'll ever regret turning that girl.

* * *

I slunk back into the shadows of the alley as a drunken man laughed his way past, followed by a prim an' proper lady. I listened carefully, leanin' my head against the brick wall. I could hear her voice, herding the men out, could hear their disgustin' comments and her smart mouth answers. I smiled; I'd taken quite a shine to her. Though I didn't understand why the landlord left the runnin' of his public house to a twenty year old girl, but she had said she'd been at it for two years. I listened to the vague chinks of glasses and waited. I stared into the open street, where hookers strode nonchalantly up and down, bobbin' in an' out of the pools of light from the black, iron street lamps. I watched how they slunk into the shadows as I myself did when a local bobby wandered past, whistling an' twirlin' his truncheon, looking for all the world like he knew the night and what it held.

Stupid git didn't have any idea that the night held worse creatures than he could dream of and I was one of 'em. The girl inside never had any idea either. I heard the sound of talkin' from the front door of the pub, a brief conversation between Gwen an' her boss. Then I heard her walkin' along the cobbled streets in her hard heeled workin' boots. I heard the bobby greet her and her return it. I could smell her comin' closer and moved to the mouth of the alley. When she walked past, I grabbed her wrist and yanked in into the alley, covering her hand with my mouth. For a few seconds I bobbed into the light and twisted her around so she could see me. Then I released her mouth.

"William?" she asked, gasping a little.

"The one and only," I answered and prowled towards her, she backed into the wall and I leaned over her, one hand each side of her head.

"What are you doin' out 'ere?" she asked, her breath quickening though I smelt no fear, to my surprise I smelt arousal.

"Waiting for you," I answered and bent forwards to nuzzle that sweet hair that covered the milky neck.

"Are you takin' liberties?" she asked, she sounded almost hopeful. "'Cause if you are, I'm -"

I shut her up with a fierce kiss that she responded to with a passion you wouldn't have thought the small barmaid capable of. Despite her fiery nature, I never expected the aggression in that kiss or that she would be so good at it. It was so powerful that it consumed me, I grabbed her round the waist and stumbled back into the wall behind us, my hands openly roaming her curvy little body. She pulled back, gasping and clutching her chest. When she got her breath back, she smiled at me and leaned in again. I was immediately aroused, 'cause no woman but Drusilla was ever that forward, not in that day and age anyway. I caught her shoulders and stopped her, though I wanted nothing more than to feel those lips on mine, it was the only thing that night that dispelled the picture of Dru with Angelus. Her face became angry and she pulled away.

"Is that your game, sir?" she demanded. "You talk to me all night as though we were equals, pull me 'ere an' kiss me an' when I respond you don't like it? You like to break young lasses without their permission, that it, sir?"

"William," I corrected. "You are beautiful, Gwen," I said, watching her as she paced while I leaned against the wall. "How would you like to be beautiful forever?"

"What?" she asked.

I pinned her to the wall again and slipped into my game face. At last, I smelt the fear, though the arousal still underlined it.

"Know what I am, Gwen?" I asked.

"The - the old witch down the lane, she said there were night walkers," she gulped. "You're one of them."

It wasn't a question, a matter-of-fact statement.

"Vampire is the more common term, love," I told her. "An' I can make you one. You'll be strong and young forever, immortal. Beautiful forever. You'd like that?"

"Would I be with you forever?" she asked, her voice a soft breath.

"The best part of forever," I answered. "Do you want to?"

"How?"

"I suck your blood," I ran a finger along her neck and she shivered an' closed her eyes. "Then you suck mine," I smirked. "So, Gwen, do you want to be like me?"

She didn't answer, but she tilted her head to the side and gave her hair a shake to expose her tender neck. I didn't hesitate in sinking my teeth in.

I knew I'd never regret turning her.


	3. Buffy

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter Three: Buffy**

"And then Spike's like 'oh, Gwen, you're Harley is soooo cool, but should is it safe? It doesn't protect you from the sun and I would die if I lost you!' and then Gwen was all 'Let's kick some ass!' I was just playing gooseberry, and who the hell does he think he is? _I'm_ the Slayer, I get Spike wanting to help out, but since when did vampires stop killing 'cause they don't _want_ to? And we only staked three vamps and a demon. It was such a slow night and I bet it was 'cause of Little Miss Ooo-Spike-You're-So-Perfect, she just wouldn't shut up. All they were going on about was 'Hey, remember that time in France?' or 'Yeah, but that was nothing to that time Darla…' or 'And it was so funny when...' I mean it Dawn, I just felt so -"

"Jealous?"

I look up from carving my stake and stare at my sister. She has I-Know-What-You're-Thinking face. It's the first time I've seen that face since before… Yeah, anyway, her lips are twisted and her eyebrows lifted. I hate when she does that. It's always of the bad.

"What?" I cry. "That is the-the dumbest thing you've ever… Jealous? Me? Of Spike and Gwen? I can't believe you would… God, Dawn!"

"You are so jealous," she grins. "You're jealous of Spike and Gwen! Oh my God! This is the best! Now you can tell him and get together and -"

"Dawn," I cut in. "Why don't you let me live my life _before_ you start planning my wedding?"

"Wedding?" she wrinkles her nose. "I don't think Spike would be happy in a church scenario, but an outdoor ceremony at night could be cool. And you wouldn't even need a priest 'cause Robbie Williams - you know, that hot singer from England - he became a bishop over the Internet, I bet Willow could do that."

I blink at her. She's really thought about this. Great. See what I mean about that look never being of the good?

"Dawn," I said calmly but firmly, the voice I created to go with stompy foot Buffy. "Spike and I are not going to date, Spike and I are not going to marry, Willow is not becoming a priest over the internet, Robbie Williams became a priest not a bishop and he is so not hot and _I am not jealous of Gwen!"_

"Whatever," she sighs and smiles to herself in a way I know can only mean trouble. "So you know when you were ranting before? About Spike and Gwen?"

"Yeah..?" I answer slowly.

"Did you mention a Harley?" her face looks excited, it's nice to see her happy, but I don't like where this conversation is headed.

"Uh, yeah, I did," I admit.

"As in a Harley Davidson?" she practically squeals. "As in the coolest motorbike on earth?"

Huh? Coolest motorbike on earth? Dawn excited over a motorbike? _Huh?_ This conversation just slipped into the dimension of weirdness. My sister, only ever interested in boy bands, boys, girlie chats, clothes and the boys in the boy bands, is excited over a motorbike? When did she get like this? And why didn't I notice?

"You're uh, interested in motorbikes?" I asked, wondering if my sister was in a take-everything-Buffy-says-the-wrong-way mood or a tell-Buffy-every-detail-of-every-aspect-of-my-life mood. Thinking about it, I don't know which mood I'm hoping for.

"Well, I wasn't," Dawn admits. "But then… before, Spike started buying all these magazines and he kept going on about how much he wanted a Harley and how he knew someone once who had a vintage Harley. I guess I caught the bug," she finishes with a shrug.

Before. That's their word for when I was dead. The word they use when they think I'll get upset if they remind me of my vacation in Hell. They don't know I went to Heaven.

Spike knows.

He doesn't mention it, never mentions what happened while I was gone. And I never ask because I never thought about what might have gone on while I was away. I never thought about how long it took for my friends to pick up the pieces, to get back to work and school, to figure out how they'd fight the demons without the Slayer. I never wondered how long it took my sister to act normal again. I never thought to ask her how Spike got on after.

Now suddenly I'm intrigued and I want to know, I want to ask if he cried. I know it's sick and I know that in a way, it's selfish, but I want to know.

"He missed you."

She's watching me like she's knows what I'm thinking. It must be because she's the Key; I just never realised how incredibly intuitive she is. I could talk to her about anything, I never have before, but she seems to have grown up. But in some way, talking to her like she's a grown up feels as wrong as asking about how my friends reacted.

"What?" I ask.

"I know what you're thinking, Buffy," she smiles. "He was dying without you, wasting away. Then he suddenly stopped drinking and ripping demons to pieces and started coming round here. He helped me. They all tried to help me, but it was Spike that did it."

"Why?" I whisper.

"I know they all love you so much," Dawn says. "But he's the only one that loves you as much as I do. Be careful, Buffy, Gwen's nice, he could leave."

For some reason, I couldn't stand the thought of him leaving, the thought of him not being there to patrol and make the sort of comments that I know should repulse me. I know I'd miss him as much as Dawn would.

She kisses my cheek and goes up to her room.

I need to see Spike.

* * *

Why am I doing this again? Did I even know why I was doing this when I decided to do this? It's not like I suddenly fell in love with him after what Dawn said. Spike and I could never go anywhere, he's a vampire and I'm the Slayer. He's evil and I'm not. Spike and I don't exactly have the recipe for the happiest relationship on earth.

Not like me and Angel.

That's the weirdest thing. What's the big difference between Spike and Angel apart from the soul? Thinking about it - which is all I've been doing since I talked to Dawn this morning, yes, bad Buffy is in residence - they're similar in so many very different ways. What I mean is they both love me. I know Spike does because he tried to save Dawn even when I said he had no chance with me and he looked after her all the time I was away. They both fight for the good. It's just that Angel was so much more… _good _than Spike. And I know if I said that to Dawn she'd probably say something like "Yeah, Angel was so good when he tried to kill me and your friends."

Like that kind of negative thinking helps.

And should I be thinking about Angel right now anyway, isn't this a Spike and Buffy thing? Is there even any Spike and Buffy? And again with the why am I here? My life is so screwed up.

I guess I'm thinking about Angel so much 'cause it wasn't that long ago that I saw him and I've got this niggling feeling that we should call each other every other day, y'know, keep in touch. I never got why we stopped communicating totally after he left, anyone else and it would have been "Hey, call me!" and there would have been Christmas cards and stuff. But suddenly this huge love and all the pain that I didn't care about because it was with him was over, and I missed him so much. But even when I knew where he was, I didn't call up and when I saw him for the first time since I'd been back, it was so clear that we weren't Buffy and Angel anymore. We were two completely different people and we wouldn't have worked out now even if we wanted to.

And that's the big thing: I still love Angel - like I can just forget something that huge - but I don't want us to get together and work out.

And the even bigger thing is that the person Angel helped me fight off only - how many years ago? Three years ago, or is it almost four? - is the one person I've told about being in Heaven. The worse thing is I didn't even tell Angel, I knew it would kill him to think I'd been happy and now I wasn't.

Here I am. Spike's crypt. The place I shouldn't be. The place Spike is.

I don't bother to knock, I never have.

He's not here, well; he's not in the upstairs anyway. I don't know whether I should check downstairs or not. But I'm likely to find Gwen boinking Spike. And the imagery there was so not good. Not that I care if they're boinking, I just don't want to see it, that's all.

"He's not here."

I'm not even halfway down the ladder before I hear the voice. I know it's her; it's the accent. I reach for my stake as I turn around. She's sitting on Spike's bed, reading, a leather bomber jacket over her black sleeveless top.

"You're looking for Spike?" she asks, looking up over the top of the book.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to see if he wanted to patrol tonight."

She tilts her head to the side and that combined with the way she smiles kinda reminds me of Spike. She casually tosses the book to one side and reaches over the side of the bed for her boots. I watch her as she pulls them on; she's really sorta pretty. I guess that's why Spike turned her. She stands up and thrusts her hands into her pockets.

"He went out to get some blood, I said I'd hang here in case you dropped by. C'mon, I'll help you find him."

"Oh, it's not important," it's weird, but I don't want to be around her and know we'll talk about Spike.

"Yeah?" she looks doubtful. "Well, I'm going out anyway, thought I'd drop in that club and have a look round. Might as well have a walk together. Don't worry, I'd say I don't bite, but I'd be lying."

The words could have been a threat, but her tone was anything but. And - this is so not of the good - but I think she's sorta interesting. She's lived so long and seen so much. And my Slayer sense says Spike was telling the truth when she said she isn't evil. Who knew?

"Can I call you Buffy?"

"Huh?"

"Buffy, can I call you Buffy?"

"Uh, sure. Why?"

"'Cause I'd like to say, Buffy, you're the luckiest woman newly alive."

Newly alive? If anyone else had said that - except maybe Spike - I don't think I'd take it so well.

"I am?"

"I think if I were American, I'd say _duh._ But as I'm not American, I'll just say too bloody right you are. You're also the blindest person I've ever known."

"You realise I'm the Slayer and I have pointy wood?"

"Yeah, I also realise that you're miserable. I'm not one of your little friends that want to pretend you're all chipper when you aren't, I don't really give a toss about you - no offence."

"None taken - I guess."

"But don't you get that Spike loves you?"

It throws me. I guess it's 'cause everyone else has been tiptoeing around me and playing at subtle. For someone who's got all the time in the world, she sure comes to the point pretty damn quickly.

"I know he thinks - "

"Oh, don't give me that bull," she runs a finger along the top of a headstone as we walk past. "You know he loves you, else he wouldn't've tried to help your sis and he wouldn't've have screwed the other nasties over while you were all dead and all."

"And the award for most subtle approach goes to…"

"Oh, you'll find I don't do subtle, isn't one of my traits. But you'll find I do blunt quite well. Just answer me this, why can't you love him?"

"'Cause he's a vampire," what kind if dumb question was that?

"So was Angel," she fixes me with a hard green stare that makes me fidget.

"He had a soul."

"But he was a complete shit without it."

"Well…uh… yeah, but he fights for the good."

"So does Spike."

"Only 'cause he can't kill people."

"Maybe, but if he got rid of it now, he wouldn't go back to being William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers. Know why? 'Cause when he loves someone he'll go as far as it takes to make them happy. Trust me, I saw it with Dru-bitch-silla. He wouldn't kill 'cause he knows it'd upset you, lass. And you can't even give him the time of night."

"I do, I patrol with him and everything!"

"Only so it's easier on you."

"Can we not talk about this?" the girl was really starting to piss me off.

Then the night got so much worse.

"Gwen, what're doin' out here, love?" Spike pauses and the brown bag slips down his chest a little. "Buffy."

"Spike."

"Hey, babe," has the girl no shame? Next thing I know, she's wrapped herself around him like an old mink coat full of mouldy old mothballs. And that came out a lot bitchier than I meant it to.

"Where you off to then?" he asks.

"Patrol," I answer shortly and fold my arms.

"Crypt," Gwen says and grabs the bag from him and marches off in the other direction.

"You two uh, bonding?" he asks.

"Because I live to bond with a vampire who has an eating disorder."

"There's no need to get so nasty, Slayer, she's all right, just got to get to know her's all."

"I don't want to get to know her, I'm counting on her leaving before I get bored enough to stake her, and guess what? I'm halfway here."

"Hands off her, Slayer," he glares at me, for once he's acting like the Spike I first knew. "You don't go round killing the good guys. If you stake her, why don't you go stake Blossom?"

"Shut up, Spike," and there it is, the side that always comes out when I talk to him. I can't even tell when he stopped being the only person who I could talk to. He's still the only person who understands and that's wrong, it should be Willow or Xander or Giles. Anyone but the evil vampire who's tried to kill me more than once. I just wish we could go back to when I first got back, when we could talk. It was easier to talk to him then because I didn't snap and he didn't do that look that twists me up with guilt. He's doing it now, which is probably why I say, "I won't stake her, as long as you come and patrol with me now."

He grins widely and I can't help but imagine what he would look like if I said "I love you." But we're so not going there.

"Already there, pet."

I start a little, thinking he might have read my mind. But he was already striding away from me, so I shrugged and followed.

We patrolled and I forgot to tell him that I'd miss him if he left with her.

I even forgot if that was actually what I wanted to say to him.


	4. Gwen

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter Four: Gwen**

"And the entire night, she never said more than three words to me!" he rants, pacing in front of the bed I'm sitting on.

"And those three words were?" I ask.

"Duck, c'mon and bye."

"As apposed to I, hate and you?"

He stops and looks at me. Then that fantastic slow smile spreads over his face and he plops down on the end of the bed. Oh yeah, gorgeous view of that bloody great back. All rippled muscles under unmarked pale skin. I practically drool when the guy stretches and shows off those arms that are all hard muscles under more of that cool, smooth, delectable, beautiful, tight - ok, yeah, I'm going off on one. Anyway, he looks round at me and shakes his head, grinning.

"Good thing you're around," he says. "Else I might actually think my life's awful."

"Things can always be worse."

"Mmmm," he murmurs. "What d'ya wanna do t'night then?"

"Well, there's any number of things _we _could do. I mean, think about it, Spikey boy: you, me, bed. And I'm guessing you've got any number of naughty little toys hidden hereabouts."

"You been snooping?" he asks, then laughs. "Love to, Gwen, can't. Got this whole my heart only beats for one woman kinda thing."

"Your heart doesn't beat to begin with."

"It's a metaphor, pet."

"Ooo, get you!" I'm quiet for a minute, then I say. "We could just hang around here."

"And talk?"

"Aye, if you want."

"So, what d'ya want to talk 'bout, love?"

I open my mouth to answer, but that's when I hear it. The crypt door creaks open in the upper level and tentative steps sound above us. He hears it a split second after I do, probably 'cause I was listening out for it, and smiles when he realises it's Buffy. I don't give it a chance to sink in. I've never really been known to hold back and think before I act, so I lean forward, pull him back, and plant a smacker on those gorgeous lips of his.

* * *

Drusilla sat in front of me, tugging her fingers through her doll's hair. I felt quite charitable towards her that afternoon, so I helped her dress the doll in it's numerous outfits. For once, I actually didn't hate her, for once I felt truly sorry for her. I knew if Angelus knew I thought that, he'd belt the life outta me 'cause I weren't s'posed to feel sorry for my elders, 'specially not when I were the youngest. But I did pity her at times, to begin with anyway. She spent her time spouting rubbish 'bout what the moon told her, or playing with her dolls while she pined for her daddy. My sister Rose was more grown up with her. And it weren't even her fault. That's why I hated Angelus, liked to play, he did. He played with me, enjoyed it, he did. Made me sick. I wished he gave his attentions to Dru who'd appreciate them, but then that'd upset William, so I didn't particularly fancy that.

"Poor little grand-daughter," Drusilla said suddenly and tilted her head to the side and studied me. I'd only been there about two weeks and I already recognised that look as the look she got when she saw stuff in people. It was interesting, but irritated me more than my sister's whinging ever did.

"Eh?" I asked.

"All the whispers pulling your pretty red head in so many directions," then a look of total clarity came over her face. "You don't like me, do you?"

Never been a liar, never been too good at it, so I shrugged and nodded. "No. You're right, I don't like ya."

"I know why," she giggled annoyingly and it made me grit my teeth.

"Do you?" I sneered.

"Tut, tut, tut," she waved the doll's hand at me. "Daddy will be upset if you are naughty."

"I don't -" but she covered my mouth with her hand and pressed her finger to her lips.

"Ssshhh," she warned and her head moved in a strange weaving pattern

I shushed, mainly 'cause she had a grip on her. I listened and I clearly heard the raised voices coming from the floor below. I recognised William's voice first and my innards fluttered as they always did when I were around him. Drusilla smiled knowingly and I tried to stop feeling so damned girlie. Then I heard Angelus's voice, and the occasional murmur of Darla's.

"You'll do as I tell you to, boy!" Angelus said, and I knew it wouldn't be long 'til his voice got so loud that it echoed round the house.

"No, I bloody well won't!"

"Oh, William!" Darla snapped. "It's not like we're asking you to stake her!"

"We aren't _asking_ you to do anything," Angelus told him. "We're _telling_ you to take her!"

"I don't want to!"

They laughed, Angelus and Darla, and I felt rage bubble in me at the thought of the two of them laughing at William. I wondered what they were talking about, but deep down, I already knew. There had been talk ever since I'd arrived of possession and I had tried to pretend it were something else. It got so bad that the day before, I had heard Angelus scream, "If you don't take that girl down, I'll do it and I'll give her a damn good seeing to!" I knew they were talking 'bout me, and I wanted to tell William I wouldn't mind if it was him, but I were scared he'd say he didn't want to.

I heard the sound of a punch and I knew Angelus had knocked him down. I started to rise but Drusilla caught my arm, dragging me down to land with a soft thump with my skirts clouded round me. She looked at me fearfully, almost desperately, I reckon that were the last time I saw concern for me on her face.

"You can't," she told me. "We aren't allowed. No women are allowed in the loud squabbles."

"Darla's down there, Dru," I answered shortly and started to get up again.

"Grand-mummy is allowed," she explained, pulling me down again. "But only Grand-mummy. They'll turn your pretty hair to dust if you go down there."

Self-preservation kicked in and I nodded. I didn't want to be dust.

"Angelus!" Darla's voice rang out clearly over the noises of a scuffle.

I heard the two men pry themselves apart and could imagine them standing in front of her while she lorded it over them.

"William," she said. It was a tone I'd never heard her use before, she'd always seemed happy to go along with whatever Angelus wanted but now she truly took control and it reminded me that she were the head of our family, not Angelus as he liked to think. She continued in the same tone. "You will go upstairs now and you will send Drusilla down. Then you will take Gwen and do what you have to do."

"But I -"

"I'm offering you the chance of privacy," she interrupted harshly. "If you won't do it even now, Angelus will drag her down here and deflower her in full view of yourself, Drusilla and I. Do you want that?"

"No," I had never heard my Sire sound so sheepish.

"And you, Angelus," I couldn't help a small smile stealing over me face when I imagined him getting the overdue rollicking he deserved. "If you carry on like this, I may think you are not happy with just Drusilla and myself."

"I am," he muttered.

"Good," she said. "Go on, William."

Drusilla gave a little, angry squeal as she heard William climb the stairs and she dropped my hand like it was a cross or something. That's when she stopped liking me, not exactly a sharing person. William came into the room and I was pleased to see that he didn't look sheepish, but just as he always did: confident and charming.

"Drusilla," he started and the love in his voice made me want to kick her. "Angelus wants you downstairs."

She nodded happily and stood up, taking her doll with her.

"You're going to play, aren't you?" she asked.

"He's waitin', Dru," he answered.

She frowned childishly and flounced off downstairs. I curled me hands in me lap and bowed me head. I didn't look up when he crossed the room to me. I felt those gentle, deadly hands on my head, gently tugging the grips out of my hair. The curls tumbled around me face and he eased them back and offered me his hand. I looked up at him. He had a reassuring smile on his face.

"C'mon," he said.

He helped me up and took me along the hall to the room he slept in.

We didn't leave it 'til dusk.

* * *

It's been a long time since I kissed him, but I always remembered the feel of his lips and tongue, the way his hands would hesitate for a second before coming to rest on your shoulders or hips. I kept it in me all this time, but he's obviously practised his technique a lot since then, 'cause it's improved, if that's possible. I'm surprised he's responding, he knew Buffy was here, I'm sure he did, but he didn't push me away to stop her seeing. Part of me thinks it's 'cause he's not bothered anymore, that he's over her. Part of me knows he was just shocked into his instinctual reaction. It's nice all the same. His hands running over my hair and running down to grip my shoulders then up again to my hair. It's 'bout as close as li'l-old-demon-me'll ever get to Heaven. And I savour it. I commit every move of his lips, stroke of his tongue to memory. I can go over as often as I like, but I know it'll only torture me, but it's the sweetest torture I'll ever know.

Half of me drowns in him, the feel of him, the scent of him. The other half stays alert to the Slayer. I hear her pause up above and I think she's looking around for him, 'cause I moved too quietly for her to have heard. Then I hear her continue on to the opening that leads down here. I hear the creak of her tight jeans as she bends over and looks down. I think she's got a clear view of me and Spike wrapped around each other. I open one eye just a little and see her freeze, hear her heartbeat quicken and smell her horror.

It was fantastic, the kiss, the response, the touch, the taste. It was even more fantastic combined with her reaction. But the best bit was the absolute misery and disappointment in her,_ "No."_

Spike heard her and pulled away, staring at me, panting. He looks horror-struck, yeah, that does a hell of a lot of good for my ego. Then he looks up at Buffy. He jumps off the bed and I flop back and sigh. Yeah, mission accomplished all right.

"Buffy," he starts, but she's already turned and is running across the crypt, to the door.

He glances back at me and the look on his face is indescribable. It's a mixture of disappointment, anger and regret. I nod curtly and he climbs the ladder to pursue her.

I can hear sobs catching in her throat and the sound of her hands gripping the door to yank it open.

I can still hear the horror and sadness in that _"No."_


	5. Buffy and Spike

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter Five: Buffy & Spike**

I can't believe I just saw that. Playing tonsil hockey in the middle of his crypt! Couldn't he have done it where no one would have seen? And why her? Why the girl with the annoying accent, weird dress sense and out dated hair? It's not that I care or anything, but now he's going to go and Dawn will blame me and I've got too many things to think about. I don't want to have to deal with Xander saying it's great, Dawn saying it's my fault, Giles, Willow and Tara asking if I can cope with patrols on my own...

I can't cope with it all.

It's so unfair.

I hear him running behind me, but I don't stop, I don't know why I should. I don't care that he kissed her, I don't care if he leaves. I do not care. I care that he doesn't think about anyone but himself.

Stupid vampire, when am I gonna learn to stake them and not grow to like them?

Not that I like Spike, I don't. He just comes in handy sometimes. In fact, I think it would be good if he left, then I wouldn't have to worry if his chip was gonna stop working, or if what he says to me has a completely different meaning in English English. I wouldn't even miss him if he left. I wouldn't.

"Buffy," he grabs my shoulder and I carry on walking, shaking my shoulder to make him let go. "Buffy! Hang on, love!"

"Don't call me that!" I snap and turn around. "I'm not your love! In fact, I don't care if you run off with her! Go! See if I care!"

"Yes, you do," he says.

Ok, that was unexpected. Hadn't I just made a very good - and loud - job of saying that I _didn't _care? What does it take to get through to vampires? Do their skulls thicken and make them completely stupid or is it just him?

"Aren't you listening?" I ask. "I _don't _care. Are you following or shall I give it to you in full colour diagrams? Would that make how much I _don't_ care very clear?"

"If you didn't care then you wouldn't have stormed out like that an' you wouldn't be fighting tears an' you wouldn't say you don't care so much!" he argues. "I know you, Slayer!"

"No! You don't know me, Spike! You never did!"

"I actually might leave then," he tells me. "Just pack up and leave with Gwen. She wouldn't mind. And if you don't care if I go or stay, then there isn't much point me staying, is there?"

"No," I mutter and I could kick myself for letting that slip out, because I didn't mean that no, there isn't any point in him staying, it was a no, I don't want him to leave. I clear my throat and look him square in the eye. "But Dawn wouldn't want you to go."

"It isn't the Bit I'm in love with and that isn't what you meant, Buffy. You care if I leave or not. Why? If you don't care so much then why do you act like you do?"

"I don't care," I yell. "I. Don't. Care!"

"Then why are you so soddin' annoyed then?"

I don't know what to say. I want to say all the things I've bottled up. I want to say how hard it is to get up in the morning, act happy in front of Dawn and my friends, how I just want to sit down and give up, how he's the only one that drags me up and tells me to live. He folds his arms and waits for my answer.

I can't hold it in anymore, I think I always knew I'd tell him the truth sometime. I don't want to, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and the tears are running down my face like a waterfall that will never stop.

"I don't want you to leave!" I scream. He looks startled and comes a little closer. For every step he takes toward me, I step back and eventually he gives up. "I pretend not to care because if I do it enough, maybe I'll believe it! But I do care if you leave. I don't want you to go! I don't want to come out and you not be there. I don't want to be miserable and you not tell me things will be fine. I don't want to do everything on my own and know that I can't turn to you because you aren't there! I don't want you to leave, but most of all; I don't want you to leave with _her_! If you're not there, Spike, I've got to be happy _all_ the time, 'cause no one else knows what it feels like. And I can't do that; it's too _hard._ You're the only one that understands me and I can't lose you. I can't lose you, Spike, because I love you too much."

* * *

I stare at her. I tell myself I didn't hear it, I tell myself she said something else. She couldn't have said she loved me. I'm tempted to pinch myself, but that would look stupid.

Right, let's work this out logically. Me and Gwen were talking, Gwen kissed me, Buffy saw, Buffy loves me. She stands there, gauging my reaction. She has to gauge? Oh, right, that might be 'cause I haven't moved since she said it. Like that's my fault! The girl just dropped a clanger and I'm s'posed to - what? _Do_ something?

She can't be in love with me, not after all those times she's said she isn't. I knew Willow did something wrong, there must be something missing 'cause she wouldn't say that. When did she fall in love with me? Before or after? And why doesn't she do something instead of just standing there? I gulp. Good, doing something, maybe I can progress up to actually blinking.

Oh bloody hell! She loves me! Buffy loves me! Buffy Summers loves William the Bloody!

"Spike?" she asks and her lower lips trembles, making me want to suck it.

"You uh, you love me now?" great, now I sound like a retard. But she loves me! But if I carry on like a bloody mime and never talk, I think she might go off me.

"Yes," she whispers.

I first saw her over four years ago, dancing in the Bronze. I knew then she was different, not some trophy, this one was more than a Slayer. I danced with her for a long time, then I watched her grow from young Slayer into young woman. That's the young woman I fell in love with. I watched her hold it together when she found out 'bout her sis, when her mum died, when she found out Glory was a God. I treasured that kiss she gave me after Glory tortured me and I loved her. Even when she was… dead, I loved her. The others moved on, mourned her, but carried on with the demon killing and their jobs and school. Not me, I couldn't move on, I was stuck trying to save her. Always trying to save her. Now here she is, alive and telling me she loves me. Now I'm the one that needs saving.

"Spike?" oh no, she sounds like she's gonna cry again. "Say something, please."

I want to, I want to say something. I want to tell her I'll never leave her, desert her or stop loving her. I want to thank her for giving me what I wanted, but the words won't come. Somehow, I don't think the words would be enough, how can you condense four years of hate, respect and love into a workable sentence? Answer: you can't. But I can condense it into something else.

So I kiss her. Numbly, I reach out, pull her to me, and cover her mouth with mine. I save her, catch her and kiss her. I couldn't save her when it counted, but maybe it counts more now. I save her from being alone and I save myself too. All the feeling return to my limbs and I know if I lost her, I wouldn't go on. This kiss isn't like with Gwen. I don't know what that was. But somehow, in some twisted, Sunnydale Hellmouth way, that kiss with Gwen gave the one thing I wanted. I was a bloody awful poet, so I try to pour all that longing and love into this kiss so she'll know just how much I care. When I pull away, she stares at me, a half smile on her face.

"I love you, Buffy," I tell her.

"I know," she nods and takes my hand, pulling me in the direction of her house. "I love you too."

So it is true then. Good things come to those who wait, even demons.


	6. Gwen

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter Six: Gwen  
**

He got her. Thanks to me, Spike, my Sire, the person I love most got the thing he wanted most. And I need to get gone. I should have left as soon as they got it on. But no, I had to stick around, didn't I? Had to watch them train together. It's downright bloody sickening!

"Spike!" she giggled as he came up behind her and grabbed her arms, pulling them away from the punching bag and hugging them round her waist, his hands covering hers.

I rolled my eyes at the sight of him nuzzling her neck and decided to ask Willow or Xander if they wanted to go to the Bronze, as my Sire was otherwise engaged.

So, I guess it's time for me to do yet another flit and get going. Always knew I wasn't gonna stick around, always knew this was a mission and I had others to be getting on with. And I'm glad, really, that this is finally "mission accomplished," 'cause now it's over and I can go. I don't have to watch Spike moon over her and I don't have to watch him hurt. It's well and truly over. Spike's happy, so I guess I'm happy. Thing is, the only way he was ever gonna be happy was with her, so that's it. I know that. I knew he would only ever be happy with her.

God, I hate her.

She must have been a brainless bimbo, not to have seen how great Spike is to begin with. I'm glad she finally realised but I hate her for getting him. Hey, I'm a complicated kinda gal.

I sigh and lean back in the chair. I've been sitting in the shop for almost an hour waiting for Spike to drag his ass in here. Probably too busy shagging the bloody Slayer.

"Uh, you ok?" Willow asks, looking at me strangely from across the table.

"Yeah," I shrug. "Why'd you ask?"

"'Cause - no offence - but you look kinda… homicidal?"

"Miserable," I correct. "I don't intend to kill you."

"Oh," she grins, "That's good."

"Yeah," I answer unenthusiastically.

The bell jingles and Spike saunters in with his arm firmly around the Slayer. Bitch. Then I look at him and suddenly she's the best thing since sliced bread 'cause she put that gorgeous smile on his face, something Drusilla never did.

"Gwen," he greets, not looking at me, nuzzling her hair. Xander rolls his eyes and the Watcher guy removes his glasses to clean them.

"Hey, Gwen," Buffy giggles, squirming away from him.

"Hi," I answer flatly.

"Ah, Buffy," Giles said, hurrying round the counter now the lovebirds have parted, which basically means they're only glued together down one side. "Ready to train?"

"Yeah," though she don't sound all that chipper about it.

So the Slayer goes off into the back an' Spike stares after her. Then he wanders over to the table and sits down. Past coupla days, I've noticed a decrease in the insults from Xander and an increase in warmth from just about everyone else. Talk about follow the bloody leader!

"Spike," I start. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he shrugs. "Fire away, pet."

I take a deep breath and look round the shop. Willow and Xander are researching some big ick, Anya's counting money and Dawn's doing homework.

"In private?" I hiss and everyone looks over. Fantastic.

He frowns at me, trying to see through me, why I need to talk privately when I've never given a damn before whether I aired my dirty linen in public or not.

"Uh, yeah," he stands up, still frowning. "Hang on a minute," and he gestures to the back room before going off to tell his girlfriend he's going off with me for a bit.

The rest of them, throw glances at each other and me 'til Spike comes back all worried looking.

"Right then," he says. "All yours, love."

Huh. I wish.

* * *

Spike doesn't need an explanation, not when my rucksack's on the bed, fully packed.

"You're leaving," he states.

"Yeah," I shrug and pull the bag toward me. "It was just a flying visit, they always are, you know that, Sire."

"I know, I just…" he runs a hand over his hair. "I thought you'd stick around this time. The Scoobs don't seem to mind you and after what you did for me and Buffy… I just thought you might stay."

"And what?" I snort. "Watch you and Miss Sunnydale play Happy Families, not bloody likely."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Being happy? Don't be, it was all part of the plan."

"Plan?"

"I had to have something to fill my time."

"I'm gonna miss you."

I look away. Not once, not once in the hundred and something years he's known me has he once said he'll miss me or he didn't want me to leave. The closest he came to that was when he told me to go to avoid Angelus.

"Yeah?" I ask. "Sure you won't be too busy not missing Buffy?"

The sneer in my voice cut him, I knew it.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"It's all right," he shrugs and takes my shoulders like he did years ago. "Who knows? Another time, another place…"

"Another Slayer?"

"Yeah. Look after yourself?"

"I always do. Didn't live this long by dancing with the sunbeams."

"I meant make sure you're happy."

"I'll give it a go."

"Any idea where you're gonna go?"

I shrug, really hadn't thought about it.

"Angelus?" I suggest. "Now I come to think about it, that could be fun. Visit him just to annoy the hell outta him."

He laughs, "Girl after my own heart."

"You didn't realise before now?" I ask and hate myself for how tiny my voice is.

He looks at me sadly and pulls me into a sudden and tight hug.

"Despite what you think," he starts when we pull apart. "I actually do soddin' love you."

The words are like Heaven. Pure Heaven. But they don't have the same depth when he says them to Buffy. But part of me doesn't give a damn, part of me just wants to accept I've got as much as I'll ever get. Part of me - as always - wants more, but it knows I won't find it here. Not in his arms, the arms of my Sire, not in the heart of the man I love. Not then and not now. And maybe I can move on now, the acceptance can help me move on. Ah, well, you never know what's around the corner. I certainly didn't when I rounded a particular corner in Virginia…

"Thanks," I answer. "Love you too, that much was always obvious."

"See ya."

"Aye."

I pick up my bag, kiss his cheek, climb the ladder and walk out. The picking up of my bag wasn't hard, the kiss wasn't hard, the climbing of the ladder wasn't hard.

The walking away, now_ that_ was hard.

I adjust the bag on my back and jam me helmet on before swinging a leg over my Harley, mounting and revving her up. He didn't come after me when I left, didn't walk me to my bike. I heard him leave as I reached my Harley and walk slowly in the other direction. I ignored it then and I'm not thinking about it now.

I drive round the cemetery perimeter to meet me boss. He's leaning casually against a tree; wearing the usual gaudy clothes that my ma would've said would shame a whore. But he's all right; I quite like the guy. I've known worse. I dismount, kick out the stand an' remove me helmet, placing it on the seat of me bike. I walk over to him and smile as I lean beside him against the tree trunk.

"Hey, kid."

"Hello, Whistler."


	7. Whistler

**_Green Eyed Slayer_**  
**Chapter Seven: Whistler  
**

She rounded the corner and nearly slammed into me.

"Watch it, kid," I said. "You think a suit this good comes cheap?"

"Maybe if you weren't hanging around on street corners, you wouldn't get your suit damaged. Unless that's how you earn your money," then she pushed past me and stalked off down the street.

"Heard you were a feisty one, Maggie."

She froze. Desired effect achieved. Then she ran back and pinned me to the wall with one hand.

"Why do people always do that?" I asked.

"Perhaps 'cause you seem to know too much. How about you tell me how, mmm?" she studied me through narrowed eyes. "You're a demon. Why'd you seek me out?" she let go and folded her arms.

"Well, Maggie - or shall I call you Gwen, seeing as no-one's called you Maggie for a hundred and ten years?"

"Gwen," she answered sullenly.

"Gwen. Does Sunnydale mean anything to you?"

She frowned and cocked her head to the side.

"Aye," she answered. "Hellmouth in California, isn't it? With a Slayer to boot, so I hear."

"And you've been keeping your ear to the ground for info about Sunnydale, haven't you? 'Cause not only does it have a Hellmouth and a Slayer, but your Sire's there, with chip and an achy breaky heart."

"Very similar to your achy breaky neck," she hissed.

"Now, now," I warded her off. "I just meant that he's not killing, he's loving the Slayer."

"So I hear."

"You haven't seen him in a while, have you?"

"Thought I might drop in on him for a hour or two on my way back to Europe."

"Sorry, you can't."

"Can't what? See my Sire? Take a long walk off a short cliff."

"Love to, but then there's the falling and horrible death scenario that I don't really love. But I meant you can't go to Europe. You've got a mission."

"Why don't you do it yourself, Tom Cruise?"

"I wasn't chosen by the Powers. You were."

"To do what?"

"To do some good. You have to go to Sunnydale and make sure the Slayer and your Sire get together."

She snorted and tossed her red hair. Then she fixed me with a hard look and smirked. Girl does act like that Sire of hers.

"Why should I do that?" she asked. "When I want him myself?"

"Because you'll never get him. Because he's going to lose that chip and if she rejects him, it might make him turn to the dark side. Do you want that? Do you want to see the same Sire you saw a couple of decades ago?"

A flicker of horror crossed her face. Got her. Hook, line and sinker.

"No," she answered shortly.

"Then you need to go there."

"And do what?"

"Whatever you have to."

"Then what? Is that it? You just want this one thing, right?"

"No. You're needed."

She narrowed her eyes and sighed.

"Fine. Beats hanging around doing nowt. But I don't take orders; you can forget telling me how to do things. You tell me what to do and where to go and that's it, ok?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Yeah, get me with no ordering me about or you don't get me - your choice."

"Sunnydale awaits."

She nodded and walked off down the street without so much as a goodbye.

"You've got to understand," I called after her and she stopped and turned

"Understand what?" she yelled back.

"That this isn't about you, it's about the two of them."

She hung her head and walked back to me. She brushed her curls back and fixed me with a clear green stare.

"What's your name?" she asked. "You seem to know both of mine, so what's yours?"

"Whistler."

"Fine then, Whistler," she grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the neon sign of an all night café. "_Make_ me understand."

* * *

She frowns down at her folded arms, her expression overcoming the cheery one she wore when she approached.

"So?" I ask.

"Done and - well, not dusted, but definitely shagged," she answers quietly. "Where to next, Whistler? Tell me it's somewhere different to this little hole in the wall."

"You're going to the same place you told Spike you were going."

"LA?" she screeches, jerking forward and staring at me. "Please tell me you don't mean I have to see Angel?"

"That was the plan."

"Oh no," she shakes her head. "No bloody way. I hate Angel, he hates me."

"You hated the soulless version, he hated you. The sad story he is now will probably like you, you've got a lot in common."

"If you weren't my boss and someone that looks like he'd scream like a woman, I would pummel you."

"Go right ahead," I lift my arms and shrug. "But you still have to go to LA."

"Why?"

"Guy's gonna get something big. Something no other vampire ever gets. This prophecy needs to go through cleanly, 'cause there's going to be trouble otherwise, kid. You have to be the saviour; you have to help him. He won't trust you straight away, but he will in time. We thought it was going to be all right if we let it happen to Angel, the great goon guy that does only good, but the Powers didn't count on one man."

"One man?" she questions.

"Jeez! Are you always this nosy?"

"One man?" she repeats.

"Name's Holtz," I shrug. "Old enemy of Angel's."

"He's got a lot of those," she sighs and rubs her forehead. "When do I go?"

"Now. You haven't got much time."

She nods and goes back to her bike - nice machine, I have to give her that.

"Whistler?"

"Yeah, Gwen?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For giving me something..." she stares past me to the crypt beyond. "Something else I can obsess over."

I nod. Then she mounts up and speeds out of the cemetery towards the party town itself. I watch her go, I know she's the best warrior for the light we have.

And she's the best because she's not the Chosen One, she's not fighting because she's got a chip and is in love with a Slayer, and she's not fighting to wipe out over two century's of guilt. She's doing it 'cause in her own way she believes in it.

And that's why the Powers chose her.

* * *

**_The End._**


End file.
